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Embracing My People

        I need to come clean with a realization about myself that has only taken shape in recent years. In the process of preparing for my mid-life crisis, I’ve discovered a piece of me that I’ve never known about before.
        Now, after coming to terms with it, I know it’s been there all my life. Repressed early on by my parents. Provided no exposure to the lifestyle, I was simply unaware of the possibilities. It’s only been recently, after reading a few magazines, and watching a DVD late at night that I am now beginning to understand this uncharted territory of my personality.
        I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’ve been in denial. Heavily oblivious, yes. Denial no. How can one deny an aspect of himself he has no awareness of?
        But as I arrive at my new level of awareness, I wonder how, if at all, I can break the news to people in my life. How can I not seem like a fake or a fraud. Will they feel cheated? Betrayed? Misled?
        Will they still love me?
        But after months and months of research, I’ve arrived at the realization I am one of a subgroup in our society. An exclusive circle of people that few know about.
        I am a Boat Person.
        There. Now I’ve said it. I fully embrace a lifetime of boat envy. Trapped on the beach, sand in my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, watching the hot guys and cool chicks conquer wake, wind tousling their hair, their cold beverages on hot summer days held securely in cup holders. How I longed to get off that beach.
        Sandy and Skip and Bud, running around in their denim cut-off shorts, chasing a dolphin named Flipper with a boat powered by two engines. Two engines. And blonde hair and deep, suntanned skin. Free as the ocean tides.

* * *

        And now, I am free. Free to embrace who I really am. A Boat Person.
        I am free to plot a course to get off that beach. To follow the dolphins.
        But I wonder about the stormy seas that might lie ahead. The perceptions of others. The implications on my relationship. As a boat person, will I still be loved?
        On my morning commute while reading Boating magazine, one of my train peeps peered toward me and said, sneering, “Oh, I didn’t realizing you’re one of those people?”
        “I’m sorry? Those people?”
        “Boat people.”
        Yes, I’m loud. I’m proud. I’m a boat person.
        But can my relationship survive my coming out? Can it thrive as I embrace the new, complete and whole me? Is it possible to be a boat person, with a spouse who can’t swim?

Year of Necessity

        While traveling last week (I had a three-stop tour of the Midwest - Denver, Minneapolis, and St. Louis), I read a column in USA Today. Craig something. I can’t remember his last name, and I can’t find the article on-line. I guess USA Today expects all of American to spend a night in a hotel to get their substantial reports on the softer side of the news (I read two articles with a behind-the-scenes look on serving the president: one on the challenges of protecting the President in the Middle East -- they never let down the inner circle; and another on providing meals on Air Force One -- air force captains run to the grocery store and sometimes practice their dishes at home).
        But this one article by Craig something actually had a point. He was revealing his new years resolution: only buy necessities. He spoke of how he spent twelve months doing this a few years back, and in the end, he was no worse for the ware. He emerged from a pile of credit card debt, found himself in a positive cash flow situation, and had amassed savings.
        Less than a year away from having the car paid off, and just under $5,000 on Tony’s student loans, the potential outcome from adopting a similar practice is a very appealing proposition.
        So we’ve declared this the Year of Necessity. We’re only going to buy the groceries we need, the clothes we need. The essentials necessary for us to get through life. And, if it’s a material possession necessary, we’re on a zero growth policy. If we need a new shirt, then that means an old shirt must go.
        Now the exception to this will be music, books, art -- the elements of life that feed the soul. But even in that regard, we expect the thought process will spill over into other areas. And it already has. We could have gone to a movie this past weekend, but why when we had six from Blockbuster sitting on the coffee table?
        We’ve only had this practice in place for a few weeks, and its already producing better feng shui. This past weekend, we started pulling books of our selves. Books we purchased on impulse, but have never cracked the spine. Books given to us, but just have never appealed. I’m giving a book ten pages. Tony disagrees, suggesting it might take longer for the book to get going. I say they author should have been a better writer. Ruthless, I know. So, if after ten pages, I find myself yawning, it goes into the charity pile. Once I read a book, it goes into the chairty pile -- unless I was so inspired to pick up a pen or pencil and underline a beautifully crafted sentence, or a word that paints such a vivid picture, it makes me salivate. Those books get to stay. Everything else goes.

        When Tony turned 40, he declared he wanted to start traveling internationally. I’m fine with that, but have decided my midlife crisis is going to manifest itself a little differently: in a boat. They say the best boat is your best friend’s boat. We’ve failed miserably in that department, so I suggested to Tony that we be the Best Friends with the Boat. We don’t have to pay for cheer camps or college educations, and who cares if we have to work five more years -- why not get a boat while we still look good on a boat.
        This past weekend, we headed to the Chicago Boat Show. It’s the second year we’ve attended the Boat Show, and it’s been a year now that we’ve been reading Motor Boating Magazine. We’ve narrowed down the type of boat we want, we’re learning about financing, storage, and safe boating practices, and now, suddenly, a boat is beginning to appear on the horizon.
        Particularly in the Year of Necessity. Twelve months from now, we’ll have the cash flow to take on such an expense, and a new way of recreating and exploring the world.
        Today, every Starbucks in one Starbucks away from summer sunning in the middle of Lake Michigan.
        I’ll be sure to update you on how we progress.